


good old fashioned lover

by Atrafa



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, No Sex, Other, Romance, This is some self indulgent shit, i cried wrting this when i wrote, listen somtimes people find intamcy in other tings, listen this, soft, this is short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:21:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25640515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atrafa/pseuds/Atrafa
Summary: my favorite part of the day.....
Relationships: OFC/OFC, OFC/OMC
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	good old fashioned lover

**Author's Note:**

> this is self-indulgent fluff

My favorite part of the day is when she sits at the vanity. On a normal day she will sit at the old antique vanity passed down in her family- girl to girl, once in the morning to put on Confidence, the mask she wears once she leaves the house we bought with the money my parents left us after the wedding. The second time is when she takes it off the mask of the woman that the world has gained, to become the girl I fell in love with, and The woman I married. 

The taking off of The Mask is a process, one I am always privy to, and desperate to watch and help with. It is very rare I am not there to help her with it. When I cannot we both are irritable and tense. First she takes off the pins that keep flyaways in their place. She calls me over, and I place them in the old notches made by women before her. They fit as if they made. I am not sure, but I hope they made the notches. The six everyday pins go on the left mirror the ivory pins starkly contrast the jet vanity. The right contains pins for fancy events and special occasions, as special as the fancy hair pins are I prefer the plain ones.

Next she takes out either the hair ties, pins, or barrettes depending on how she wore her hair. She too gives these to me to put up. Hair ties go around the morning brush, the pins on the side mirrors of the vanity, and the barrettes on the top of the center. She looks at me with a soft look full of affection, I hand her the evening brush. An old thing not made for knots, but she brushes out her hair as I take out her makeup remover, wet a washcloth, and layout out comfortable clothes after a hard day of working with cruel people. When she finishes, she beckons me over, I turn her toward the mirror. 

“You are the kindest person I know and I love you.” I kiss her lips gently, she is smiling at my compliment, it is true. At any other time, it might have turned to passion, and then sex, but this is sacred. This daily ritual of ours, is too sacred for sex. I gently wipe the bright red lipstick from her mouth. The dusty rose color that comes out from under the red lipstick is better than any shade she could ever buy.

“ You are the Queen of my heart and soul. I could never love anyone else, as much as I love you.” I declare softly, yet fervently. My declaration is met with a nod of agreement, She does not speak during this. She feels it cheapens it, her voice that is. I tilt her head, and she closes her eyes. I gently grab a cotton swab, dip it in the makeup remover, and gently remove the eyeliner that makes her eyes brighten in color, but dull in liveliness. I throw the cotton swab away. I grab another repeat removing eyeliner on her other eye, then I remove the eye shadow that mocks the shadows of twilight. I remove my hand from her chin. Her eyes flutter open. Her bright eyes look more lively than they did a few seconds ago. I love the vulnerable look of trust she gives me in moments like this, I would die for.

“ You are the love of my life. I can never live without you.” I take the washcloth, I remove peach colored blush and creamy foundation the color of golden amber, it highlighted the copper and bronze in her darkened clay skin tone. As pretty as she was with it, I preferred the roughness the absence of the makeup gave her. It reminded me of Galatea, and her lover. 

“ Look at that. See that darling. That’s why they write romantic poetry, For your beauty.” I touch her breast where her heart lay, then move to her cheek and out. She blushes the same color of her lips. She initiates the next kiss. It was just as soft as when I removed her lipstick. She gestures for me to move. She returns all the items that graced the vanity from both this morning, and just now. As she works on that, I leave the room, and move to the kitchen. 

“Tea, Coffee, or wine, Darling.” I ask as always

“Coffee, my Heart.” this is usually, the first time she speaks, since she got home, about half-an-hour ago. 

I make two cups of coffee, perfect by our standards, a splash of cream and half the amount of sugar. Once they are the creamy color that matches her stockings, I put them in the microwave for five minutes and move toward my divine wife. She looks up at me from under her lashes. She points her foot and wriggles her toes. I laugh at how cute she looks. She raises her eyebrows expectantly. I smirk, and sit under her legs. I massage the feet, she’s been standing one all day. Slowly I move up to her ankles, to her calves- when the microwave goes off. She pouts, I stand to go get her coffee. She grabs my hand on my way to the coffee.

Kiss me, my wonderful spouse.” I, as any good spouse should, comply to that simple demand. I get our coffee from the microwave, and quickly put them on the coffee table, so that I may finish I what started. I restart from the place where I left off. I move from her calves to the end of her skirt. I delicately push it up her upper thighs to where a good deal of thigh is shown as well as her garter. I carefully, and slowly unclasp her black garters from her stockings. Like at our wedding first goes down left garter than the right. Kisses are delicately placed where the garter once was. Next, in the same order, are the stockings. I kiss where the stockings were clinging to her clay skin. She hasn’t stopped watching me since I placed the first lilly soft kiss on her thighs. As I remove the last part of stocking from her feet, I look into her eyes, her pupils are blown wide. I smile and they are off. Her coffee is finished and mine is cold. I sigh in faux disappointment. I grab the cold drink and take a sip. 

“I’m willing to wait for it.” she quietly sings. 

“Best of wives, and best of women.” I sing back quietly. She smiles at my declaration. Her face falls. As does mine, I move to comfort her. She accepts. We move to where I am holding her. 

“Don’t leave me. You can’t. It’d break my heart. Shatter it. Please don’t make me understand that pain.” she whispers into the hollow of my neck. My heart stops. It restarts, slower but beating harder. It beats to make sure my love’s heart beat stays that way, as well. 

“Promise me the same, and I’ll promise you the world.” She nods her agreement. It is promised. Neither of us says we probably will not keep that promise. But it holds us over. I sip more coffee. I’m still holding her. She is sitting between my legs to where her head sits just under my chin. She turns her face up to me. Her eyes, are currently, the color of molten amber. That’s my favorite color of her eyes. My face is calm and serene. This is perfection, nothing is better. I kiss her again, and again, and again. I will never have enough of her. I will never be worthy of her, but she has decided she’s worthy enough for me, and so who am I to argue? My personal Persephone, of sorts. My death will come with her absence. She is the oxygen in my lungs. She is the blood in my veins. She is my everything. I will not survive when she goes. I pray she will not leave me until our hair is as white as the clouds. Until my veins are bluer than the pacific. Until skin is more like paper than I care to admit. Then she can leave me and I will let her go peacefully. 

“ Will you let me go get dressed in pajamas? Then read to me.” She inquires softly. I loosen my grip around her hips and ribs. 

“What book do you want?” 

“Anything with a happy ending.”

“ The Hobbit ?”

“Sure.” is heard from upstairs. I walk to the old book case. My finger lightly skim the book spine. My hand caresses over  _The Complete Works of Shakespeare, The Tale of Despereaux,The Velveteen Rabbit, Dracula, and, Harry Potter _ series in it’s entirety before landing on the fully illustrated version of  _ The Hobbit _ _._

I hear the rain start up outside. I start a fire up in response. It is not a huge roaring fire but a small one that’ll last all night. The fire crackling and rain falling makes the moment feel like, living. Like how life is supposed to be. Soft moments with those you love.

She comes back in, she wears the clothes I laid out for her. An old t-shirt that claims that she went to some amusement park, and worn black and grey flannel bottoms. She motions for me to sit down. I sit back down on the couch. My back up against the arm of the couch. My legs are spread so that she can fit between them with ease. She waits until I settle then she places herself in the exact place. I wrap my arms around her ribs with the book and open the book to the first page.

_“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.”_ I read in a soft voice. We sat in comfort, with the fire crackling, and the rain coming down as hard as dwarvish axes on wood, all while Bilbo Baggins tried to get out of adventuring.


End file.
